


Celebration

by Tonks32



Series: The Docks [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, First Time, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 19:47:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21021275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tonks32/pseuds/Tonks32
Summary: Bethany Hawke and Rylen find time to celebrate the defeat of Corypheus in their own way. This takes place in my The Docks fic.





	Celebration

**Author's Note:**

> Smut with character development
> 
> Now updated with a bit more!

Why was she so nervous? Bethany pulled at the sleeve of her robes watching the crowd of the main hall as they mingled, danced, laughed, and celebrated. It was only Rylen. For Maker’s sake, they already slept together. Well, not in the physical sense. There was the time in the tent and last night after she returned from the Arbor Wilds. After their reunion in the gate, Rylen went off to report in and bathe while she went on helping Dorian and the other healers help the wounded returning from the battlefield. When she managed to find her way to Rylen’s quarters, which was a small room right across from the barracks, the poor man was dead to the world. Regardless of how it looked, Bethany crawled into bed where she was greeted with a sleepy smile and found comfort in his arms she’d been seeking since she rushed along with her brother back to Skyhold.

Bethany rose first, leaving Rylen to rest as she knew he needed it and went to work, helping where she could. As much as it pained her, she glued herself to the Ambassador’s side to keep her from nagging Alex too much. Seeing how the Inquisitor was still recovering herself, Bethany wanted to give her the time she needed. Plus, it was a way to keep the mage in her brother’s company. Something, Bethany hoped, was going to be a more common occurrence. She knew of their trip to Lottering and hoped once they returned Alex wouldn’t be thrown back into the fold. The Breach was closed and yes, while rifts lingered, the Inquisition’s members deserved some rest.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you’re nervous.”

Bethany jumped at the sound of Cullen’s voice. She glanced up and cursed when she found the Commander smiling. “I say your age is catching up to you and you’re seeing things.”

Cullen chuckled. “My eyes work just fine.”

“Don’t you have a wife to go dance with or something?”

The idea of being able to share in such an activity again with Cassandra made Cullen’s smile grow. He found great enjoyment even if he was a tad nervous now that he was under the watchful gaze of their friends. Mia, bless her, had taught him to dance at a young age, forcing him to practice every time they were dragged to the Solace’s celebrations their parents dragged them to.

“So, umm, listen.” Glancing out of the corner of his eyes to ensure that Hawke was still preoccupied with Varric at the other end of the room, Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “I know you you’ve been drifting from empty cot to cot in your time here in Skyhold.”

Bethany shrugged. “At least I have a roof over my head. My time with Bella gave me little consistency.”

“Well, I’ve recently found myself with new living quarters and workspace thanks to a generous gift from Josephine. Meaning there is a perfectly good space with a nice bed up for grabs.” Now, Cullen felt his cheeks start to burn. “Figured I’d offer it to you. Give you a bit of privacy.”

Once Bethany noted where Cullen’s gaze wandered, face flushed and felt knots start to form in the pit of her stomach. “Oh.” She wrung her hands together. “Yes. Some privacy would be nice. Thank you.”

Cullen blew out a long breath. “Now that I’ve thoroughly embarrassed myself, I’m going to find my wife.”

Once the Commander disappeared into the massive crowd, Rylen took the cue and made his way towards Bethany. “Evening.”

Cocking her head to the side, Bethany studied him. Though he was trying to mask it, she could tell that the Knight Captain was extremely tired. Still, he managed to pull himself out of bed, dawned on a silk tunic, shined his boots and styled his hair for tonight’s festivities. She brushed the tips of her fingers over his lightly bearded cheeks. Constant traveling and battles gave him very little time to shave. At first, his appearance shocked her. Now, she found it growing on her. “You’re looking quite distinguished, Knight Captain.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Is that so?” Stepping closer, Rylen took hold of her wrist and leaned into her warm touch. “Is that another way to say I look dashing?”

“Incredibly,” Bethany answered losing herself in his dazzling smile. “I will say though. You seem like you could still use a few more hours or perhaps even days of rest.”

“A week wouldn’t be enough.”

“You shouldn’t have-.”

Cutting her off, he brought her hand to his kips. “I’ll have plenty of time to rest when I’m dead. Tonight is about celebrating and there is no one else I would rather spend it with than you.” Rylen led her towards the dancing crowd. “May I have the pleasure of a dance, Mistress Hawke?”

“Fair warning.” Bethany let him draw her close. “There wasn’t much dancing in my tenure at the circle. My last memory of dancing was with my father and I had to stand on his feet to do so.”

“Then we are at an equal disadvantage,” Rylen assured. “Because dancing was not in my Templar training. But if you’re willing, we can fumble through this together.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Sometime after their third dance, they became separated, lost to the masses and the hundreds of conversations passing through the main hall. Rylen let her enjoy the night, the people, the atmosphere. He knew her time in Kirkwall was spent keeping her head down. Never having the opportunity to strike up a friendship. To enjoy a simple night out on the town. Always doing what she needed to blend in and not stand out. A sad case for many who possessed magic. Rylen was elated that Leliana, soon to be Divine Victoria, wasn’t going to bring back the circles and reform what were the Templars into something else. Something better. People like Bethany deserved all the happiness and experience life had to offer without fear of being locked away for being born a certain way.

Tucked away at the edge of the crowd, Rylen leaned heavily against the archway near Varric’s usual spot. His body ached down to the bone. In fact, he was sure the wall was the only thing keeping him upright. The lure of the comfort his bed could provide was becoming increasingly harder to ignore. Rylen wondered, as he tipped his head back and eyes drifted closed if Bethany would sneak in after the party was over. It was quite a nice surprise to wake up to her sliding into the bed next to him, knowing she had to make her way through the barracks to do so. Felt natural. Normal even. Something he defiantly could get used to.

Being jerked by the arm, Rylen opened his heavy lids and stumbled along as Bethany pulled him through Solas’s empty living space. “Beth?” He found himself pressed against the door leading to the walkway connecting to the battlements with Bethany pressed tightly against him and being kissed senseless. Shaking the sleep from his mind, Rylen cradled the back of her head, deepening the kiss enthusiastically.

Bethany happily allowed the warrior to take control as their positions became reversed. This time, he didn’t hold back on any fronts. Fingers tangling in his hair, she arched against him. “Rylen.”

“Yes, Mistress Hawke?” Nipping at her lips, he asked in a playful tone. By the Maker! When was the last time he simply had fun?

“I need you to get us out of here right now. I need your hands on me.”

Rylen felt his knees start to buckle. “Not sure if I have the resolve to make it all the way back to the barracks.”

She reached behind her for the door handle. “I have it on very good authority that Cullen’s office and bedchambers are now vacant.” She tilted her head, giving his seeking lips better access to her throat. “And it’s much closer.”

Door opened, Rylen hooked an arm around her waist. “Thank the Maker for that!”

They stumbled through the doorway of the office both unwilling to pull themselves away from one another. Rylen at least had half the mind to kick it closed before twisting them towards the latter. Somehow they were going to have to climb the blasted thing but Bethany’s wandering hands were making it hard to think past the need pounding in his veins.

“Up,” He groaned already working on the ties of her robes. There were no candles burning and barley any moonlight shined down from the room above. That wouldn’t do, Rylen mused as his mouth tangled with hers once again. He wanted to see her, all of her, and he be damned if he took this precious woman on a desk for their first time. He liked to think he had some control over his loins. Then again, with her fingers working the buckle of his belt, Rylen felt it slipping at an alarming rate. “Up the ladder, Bethany.”

She slipped her hands beneath his silk tunic. “That’s like asking me to climb a mountain.”

Sliding an arm around her waist, Rylen hitched her up until she clasped herself tightly around him. “Hold on.” Resisting the urge to buck, He hefted them up the first few rungs of the ladder. “Don’t let go.”

Playfully, she nipped at his ear. “You’re stuck with me, Ser Knight.”

Somehow, together, they managed their way through the hatch and attacked each other with renewed vigor, twisting and pulling along the floor towards the bed. Bethany perched herself above him, a wicked smile playing at her lips as she all but tore the silk tunic in two. His startled look had her laughter filling the room. “I’m sure the Inquisition can requisition you a new one.”

“Right,” He huffed laughing himself. “I’m sure the Commander will completely understand.”

Shoving her hand off her face, Bethany gazed down and felt her mouth go try. “Your tattoos.” This was the first time she was seeing them fully. She caught a glimpse the day they met but he quickly covered them up before they even made it to the clogged well. Using the tips of her fingers, she started to trace the inked half circle at the base of his neck. It spread until it hit both shoulders with a tribal pattern made up of triangles and squares between each ring. The circles started again at both forearms and ran all the way to his wrist. His left looked like a vambrace while the one on his right was different. There was a thin black line under his elbow, followed by a much wider ring, with another thin ring beneath and a gap between that and the tribal markings around the wrist.

She felt his muscles jump when she slipped the small collection just above the waistband of his trousers. “They’re beautiful.”

Her hands spread across the expanse of his chest, reducing Rylen’s vocabulary to one single solitary word. “Beth.”

Her smile grew. “You’re beautiful.” She’d never been with a man, well at least not in this capacity, before. Bethany vastly enjoyed each noise she pulled from the session warrior as she explored the plains and curves of his exposed body. “You’re trembling.”

“Sweet Maker.” Rylen’s fingers dug into her hips, eyes dark with hunger. Her hands, strong and soft had been something he dreamed about for far too long. To have them on him made it difficult to breathe let alone thing. “I’ve wanted you from the first moment I saw you. I never-never thought… Shit.”

Hands wrapped around his hardened arousal, Bethany leaned down to nibble at his bottom lip. She found the sensation fascinating. How could something so hard be so silky? What would it feel like inside her? She stroked her hands down and froze at the gut-wrenching noise spilling out. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” He breathed drawing her hands up and away before things ended too soon. “Andraste, no. You’re absolutely perfect.” Through the moonlight, Rylen watched a blush start working up her neck. “I believe you’re overdressed, Mistress Hawke.”

“Think you can help me with that?”

A smile crossed his face. “I think I can manage that.” He urged her up and pulled himself off the floor before sitting her on the edge of the bed. After making quick work of leathers and both their boots, Rylen trailed a hand up the length of her bare leg delighted she hadn’t bothered with legging. His other reached for the last tie of her robes. He let it slid from her shoulder, hungry eyes taking in every inch of skin as it was exposed to him.

Bethany’s arm twitched and found herself fighting the urge to cover herself. His warm palms slid over her hips leaving her body straining towards his. “Rylen.”

Laying her back upon the bed, he bent to explore.

The moment his mouth touched her skin, Bethany nearly jolted out of her skin. It seemed he was touching everywhere all at once. Hands clawing at his shoulders, Bethany tried to find her breath and quickly found it was a useless endeavor. This was vastly different than her own touch. His lips, hot and eager, responded and chased every sound that fell from her lips, eager to find out was pleased her most. “Maker’s breath.” She felt his fingers brushed beneath her small cloth, over the curls at her center and found opening up without hesitation.

Unprepared for how responsive she would be to his touch, Rylen lifted his head enamored by the pleasure flooding her features. “Bethany.” He slid his fingers along her damp folds. “Look at me, Bethany. Please, I want to see you.”

Her eyes lifted and she began to drown in him, in his touch, in the heat he was building inside her. So different yet so much more pleasurable than anything she’d done to herself. Gripping him, she threw her head back and let herself volt over the edge.

The sound of her cries shot through Rylen in a way he wasn't prepared for. He held himself above her, heart hammering, body screaming at him to take. “Bethany?”

Needing to anchor herself in the raging sea of emotions coursing through her, Bethany gripped his shoulders. “Th-that was quite a different experience.”

“You…You…” Throat tight now, he rested his brow against hers. “No one?”

She suddenly grew bashful. “Is that a problem?”

“Andraste’s light, no!” Ignoring every instinct to find his release, Rylen tenderly brought his lips to hers. “Are you-Maker.” They shared another kiss, one of passion, admiration, and love. His heart was so full he was sure it was going to burst straight out of his chest. “I don’t deserve such a gift. You. I-.”

Lovingly, Bethany riled her hands up his neck to cup his face. Tears prickled, leaking into her voice. “Neither of us has had much control in our lives. I’ve always wanted this moment to be special. To be one of my own choosing. With a man I cherish.” She pressed her lips to his, swallowing the small sob that slipped past his defense. “Isabella called me a prude and tried her best to break me, saying what I was waiting for was only found in fairy tales.”

“As a Templar, I never thought I’d have the freedom for such things. And for so long, I was okay with that as long as my oath meant something.” Rylen could never truly hate his time within the order. Despite everything, it helped shape the man he was. Gave him discipline. Taught him about faith. Showed him he was capable of making a difference. Helped him understand the difference between justice and domination. “I sure in the Fade didn’t expect to find you, not once, but twice. I figured the moment you left Kirkwall, I lost my chance.”

Bethany smiled. “Yet, here we are.”

“Here we are,” He echoed with a smile of his own. “Bethany are you sure?”

“Such a Ferelden Gentleman.”

Rylen chuckled.

“Look at me.” She waited until his gaze lifted. “I’ve never been surer about anything in my life. You have my heart, Rylen. Don’t you see that?”

His own bursting now, Rylen took her mouth, pouring everything he could into that single moment. She hooked her legs around his hip, urging him and Rylen was all too happy to comply. Gathering every ounce of control he possessed, he gently eased into her welcoming heat. Feeling her clutch tightly around him nearly had his iron resolve breaking. “Bethany.” He felt her nails bite into the skin at his shoulders, saw the flash of pain as he pushed forward, filling her completely.

Sweat beading of his brow, Rylen stilled. “Maker, Beth. I’m sorry. I know… It should get better. Do I-?”

Yanking him down, Bethany silenced him with a kiss. “Stop and I’ll feed you to a dragon.” She moved, focusing, not on the sharp sting of pain, but rather the pleasure of him stretching and filling her most wondrously.

Rylen, careful to keep them joined, rolled until she was perched above him. He brushed the thick strands of hair from her flushed face. “You’re in charge, Mistress Hawke.”

Smiling, Bethany playfully nipped at the tips of his fingers. “I will need guidance.”

“Start slow.” Rylen urged her to lift and helped control the rate of her decent. The sound of her moan nearly had him bucking. “Find your rhythm.”

She caught her bottom lips between her teeth, “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“That’s impossible.” Rylen let her set the pace. Watch the pleasure, mixed with fascination, okay across her face. Happily, let himself be her best subject as she learned how to listen to her body and it’s needed.

Such a gift. One, Rylen would cherish for the rest of his days.

“Maker, woman!” Surging upward, Rylen held her firmly around the waist, moving frantically to match her hungry thrust. He felt her fingers twist in his hair while her other arm latched around his neck. mouths met, tongues danced, teeth clashed together.

Bethany felt his muscles tense under her touch, felt his noises of pleasure vibrating against her lips. Her own was pulsating through her veins like liquid fire. Books, Bella’s long tales of her sexual exploits, nothing could have aptly prepared for this delightful experience. “Rylen.” Breaking the kiss, she pressed her brow against his, caught in his intense gaze.

“Am I hurting you?” Rylen forced himself to still overcome with worry that he was. “Beth?”

“No. Maker, no.” She rocked against him, nipping at this kiss swollen lips until he was moving along with her once again. “This is wonderful.”

Feeling the heat starting to coil at the base of his spine, he pressed his face to the swell of her breast. His release was right around the corner and there was nothing he could do to hold it back. He’d dreamed about this for years and now that the moment was here, Rylen was completely overwhelmed. “I can’t-Andraste’s light- I can’t…” A sliver of embarrassment began to seep through the pleasure.

“I-I want to see you,’ Bethany breathlessly demanded.

Lost in, in every way possible, Rylen tilted his head back lost in her darken gaze. There wasn’t any disappointment like he feared. Nothing but pleasure. Admiration. Love. “Bethany.” His voice echoed off the walls as the coil broke lose. Hips jerking, Rylen held her stare, even when the pleasure hit its peak, enamored by the curiosity and satisfaction flashing into her features.

Tenderly, she brushed his sweat-soaked hair off his flushed brow, moving lazily to draw out every ounce of his release. “Maker, Rylen. That was… I don’t know if I even have the words. Incredible. Earth shattering. Perfect.”

A soft laugh caught in his throat. “I think that’s my line.” Hand cupping her cheek, Rylen brought her lips to his. “I’m… I didn’t… Fuck, you were perfect, Bethany. I couldn’t control myself.”

She smiled into the kiss. “I quite liked that.”

“I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“That is the last thing you did. But…” She pushed at his chest until he was flat on his back, feeling his cock twitching inside her. “If you think you need to redeem yourself, I’m sure I could be persuaded.”

Rylen groaned.

“All night if you’d like.”

“I guess you enjoyed yourself?” Rylen softly teased skimming a hand up her ribs to cup her breast. The soft noise he drew from her and the way she pushed into his touch made his head spin.

“You’ve awakened something inside me, Ser Rylen. I hope you’re prepared to pay the price.”

A grin split across his face. “I think I can suffer through the consequences, Mistress Hawke.”

“Good.”

“First, let me.” Words escaping him, Rylen lifted her, feeling a profound loss at the separation, and laid her gently out on the bed. He quickly moved about the room for a washbin and cloth. Tenderly, he wiped the damp cloth along the inside of her thighs, along her slit cleaning up the remains of her maidenhood and his seed.

She figured this was where the embarrassment would start, but instead felt elated, transfixed by the thoughtfulness and love shining on the Knight Captain’s face. She caught him before he could retreat. “Let me.”

Rylen handed her the cloth on command and found himself entranced as she repaid the favor by running the cloth over his cock. Breath catching, he felt himself coming alive under her touch. He tilted her head back until their eyes met. “I love you, Bethany Hawke.” His voice trembled a moment before a laugh escaped him. “Maker, it feels so good to say that.”

Bethany smiled. “It feels good to hear it.” Since it was something she was sure she’d never hear from a man in life, a tear slipped down her cheek. “I love you too, Rylen.”

Later, much, much later, Bethany reached out to stroke her finger along the three lines inked into his chin. “What do they mean?”

Rylen stirred himself from his blissful state to focus on her question. “Three lines: action, knowledge and the power of will.” He touched the first one. “Reminder of the spiritual direction to which life should be lived.” Then the second. “That peace is a goal worth striving for and the last is a reminder that one day the body will be ash as we are united with the Maker.”

She moved her fingers towards the one on his chest. “These?”

“Each ring is for each assignment given to me by the Templars.” Voice stirring with emotions, Rylen touched one of the tribal markings between the half circles. “Each one symbolizes a lost charge or comrade. A reminder to never forget.”

The fact that he had inked mage’s lives into his skin as a reminder of what hat transpired and not to let it happen again brought tears to her eyes. “You’re a good man, Rylen.”

“I think I’m working my way towards that,” He softly argued watching her fingers stroke along each mark on his chest. “I have much to atone for.”

“Don’t we all.”

“Aye,” He agreed. “I guess we do.”

“What about these?” She touched his right arm to the collection of rings.

“This first thin line marks my life before the templars. I joined young which why it’s so skinny.” He urged her fingers to the thicker ring. “That symbolizes my time with the order which makes up about half my life.”

“The last ring is you joining the Inquisition?”

Rylen shook his head. “Each ring is for something that has left a mark on my life. It’s a tribal thing that I learned from Avvar that use to visit our village to trade. They were covered head to toe in paint and ink representing everything from marriage, to kills and everything in between that reflected their life within their hold.”

“They show your strength. That you are a man defined not only by his success but his failures as well. And you’re not afraid to show that to the world.”

“Maker, woman.” His hand slid to cup her cheek. “I love you.”

Closing her eyes, she soaked up the sound of the words. “Thank you.”

“Never,” Rylen fiercely whispered. “Never thank me for that, Bethany.”

“Still feels like a dream to hear them being spoken to me.”

Rolling, he held himself over her, eyes burning with love and need. “A dream?” The corners of his mouth lifted. “Well, let me show you how real this is, Mistress Hawke.”

Laughing, Bethany arched into his hungry lips. “We’re going to kill each other if we keep this up.”

“Complaining?”

“Andraste, no!”

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I realized way too late when writing this pair that Rylen isn't Ferelden, but decided to keep it as such.


End file.
